Ephemeral
by AzureSkye23
Summary: After Maeglin has betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth, but has not yet left Angband, he wants to forge. In the process, he runs into a certain golden-eyed Maia, and Mairon realizes they are actually quite similar. A gift fic for CrackinAndProudOfIt.


**This is a birthday present for my good friend Crackers. She was one of the first people I made friends with when I first started posting to this site, and the only one still active. She's been an irreplaceable source of beta help, wonderful reviews, and long conversations both inane and insightful. Thank you for the years of wonderful friendship, Crackers, and I hope you have a happy birthday!**

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Mairon was more pretending to work, than actually working. In fact, he was staring into the fire, trying to ignore the fact that his hands had been shaking since he'd returned to Angband. As that had been weeks ago, he was also ignoring the toll this was taking on his health.

He managed to look a bit more busy when he heard the footsteps coming towards him. One was an Orc—quiet the Orcs were not—but the other set was soft, only heard when they stepped while the Orc was between footfalls.

"Here," the Orc said in his grating voice, as Mairon looked up to see the Orc leading an Elf. "The Lord said you could have the best forge. This is it."

"But…um," the Elf said softly, looking uncomfortably at Mairon, who simply gathered up his sketchbook and gravers.

"Him?" The Orc asked with a leering grin. "Oh, don't mind him. He's out of the Lord's favor."

It was very true, Mairon thought sourly, his hands beginning to shake harder, though he was holding his things now, as he headed to the second-best forge. It was very true he was out of Morgoth's favor, and all of Angband knew it. He set his things down on the workbench, and began to fire up the forge.

"Um…excuse me?"

It was the Elf. Mairon turned, looking at him fully. Grey eyes, dark hair…he looked like a Noldo. The fact he wanted a forge reinforced that fact. He'd heard rumors of a Noldo who had given Morgoth what he most sought: the location of Gondolin. This must be the Elf.

"Yes?" Mairon answered in an emotionless voice. The Elf blushed faintly.

"I…don't want to take your forge," he said. "I'm fine using this one." Mairon sighed internally.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Maeglin," the Elf answered. Mairon nodded once.

"Just use the forge," the Maia told the Elf. "You won't be staying long, after all, will you."

"Well, no," Maeglin admitted. "But that's more reason why I can use a different forge. I just wanted to make a few things…" Mairon's internal sigh was more exasperated this time.

"I wouldn't dare to use it." he said bluntly. "Melkor ordered for you to have the best forge. And I am out of his favor." He tried for a smile, but knew it came out as a bitter, twisted smirk. Maeglin looked down, as understanding flooded his features. He should understand, Mairon thought, looking at the yellowing bruises on his face, and knowing that under his clothes were hidden worse wounds.

"Well, would you at least show me where everything is?" Maeglin finally asked. Mairon nodded.

"I can do that," he said simply, walking back with the Elf. When they arrived, Maeglin pulled a small ingot of black metal out of a pocket, and set it on workbench. Mairon eyed it with interest. It looked like something he'd never seen before, and he itched to get his still shaking hands on it.

"It's called Galvorn," Maeglin said, having noticed. "It's…my father invented it." He paused, and suddenly his expression showed he was far away from Angband.

"They killed him," he said softly, his expression still vacant. "My father. They killed him. The Gondolindrim. He'd killed my mother—by accident. He was trying to kill me. I've always wondered if they still would have killed him if he had killed me instead of her."

And you're going to kill them, Mairon thought, but said nothing.

"I am…I am supposed to be my uncle's heir," Maeglin hissed. "He only has a daughter. I was going to marry her. I loved her. But she chose that misbegotten mortal. I will get rid of him, and the unnatural son he fathered on her. And I will have her." Now he looked at Mairon fully, and the Maia could see the fire swirling in his gaze. Fire that had been there long before, but that Morgoth has stoked to a blaze that would destroy.

"I will have her," he declared boldly. "Melkor has promised me. I will rid her of her husband who will die anyway, and the son that never should have been, and I will have her. Melkor has promised. I will have all that I deserve."

There were many things Mairon could have said to this. He could have said:

She does not love you

Or, How long do you think she will survive if you take her by force?

Or, It is unlikely to be as easy as you think it will be

Or, History will remember you the same way it does me. As the betrayer, the deceiver. The murderer, the hated one. You will never get what you want from this.

Or, he could have said, perhaps more accurately of all: You will never get what it is you want. Even as you stretch out your hand to take it, you will find it sliding away from you, as ephemeral as mist. And you will find in your pursuit that you have lost everything you had. You will be left with nothing.

But he said nothing. He was out of the Lord's favor, after all. Maeglin accepted this silence, beginning to work as Mairon continued to stand there. Why was it, the Maia mused with bitterness, that what would happen to this Elf had happened to him? It was not as if he wanted a maiden unwilling, after all. All he had wanted was respect, and to have the power he deserved, and to be valued. Was any of that really so bad that Ilúvatar would have left him to this fate?

Mairon bowed his head, as the bitter truth came to him. No, wanting what he had was not the problem. It never had been. His downfall had been trusting that the Darkness would give him what he so craved. He looked again at Maeglin, though the Elf had his back to him, the Maia's eyes hard and cold. This Elf would learn the same lesson. He turned and walked away, back towards his room and not the second-best forge. When he was far enough away that Maeglin wouldn't be able to find him, he slipped the small ingot of Galvorn from his pocket, where he'd surreptitiously slipped it. He tossed it in the air, catching it easily. It might have been only Maeglin and his father's, but Mairon would learn how to make it, and use it himself.

After all, Mairon thought with a dark smirk as he tossed the ingot again. Maeglin would learn soon enough. The Darkness never gave. It only took.

Mairon noticed absently that for the first time in weeks, his hands had stopped shaking.

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 **This is technically AU to my universe, except for Innocence, of course. And I know, I haven't responded to *anyone* but...I moved last weekend, and it's been hectic. Anyway, please review!**


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